My dad didn’t die a wealthy man. He died a successful one.
He made his first million at the age of 25, by 30 he had a multimillion-dollar business and by 40 he lost it all. His relationship was not stable. My mother wanted to divorce him, he didn’t really knew us –his daughters, he had terrible stomach ulcers, his friends abandoned him, he lost all of our houses and he lost absolutely ALL of his money. He was so busy trying to get richer that he neglected every other aspect of his life. It was when he hit rock bottom that he came to realize what successtruly meant. A series of advice he handed down to me.
When I made my first million I was happy but that happiness quickly faded away and I thought I was poor because I didn’t have 10 million. When I had 10 million I wanted 100 million and so on. It was never enough, I felt like a failure when I had 40 million dollars in the bank, because I didn’t have 100. I wanted to buy you the world, when all you needed was your father.